


A decision

by lwise2019



Series: Mikkel's Story [25]
Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:22:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22762399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lwise2019/pseuds/lwise2019
Summary: The team decides to go look for the cure.No great insight into Mikkel here.  This is basically pages 462 through 469 of the web comic.
Series: Mikkel's Story [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1536739
Kudos: 4





	A decision

“Be honest,” Tuuri said, smiling behind her mask, “us tagging along wasn't so bad! At least you had company.”

“It was a bother,” Mikkel answered grimly. She'd endangered herself, which was bad enough, but she'd endangered Reynir as well, and he didn't mean to pass it off casually. “If you decide to do something of this nature again, at least refrain from pressuring Reynir into joining you.”

“Um ...”

“Did you assume I wouldn't know what a manipulative younger sibling looked like in action?”

“S—so … you've got a younger sibling? A brother or a sister?”

“Changing the subject immediately. Very good.” It was not praise.

“No, I really am curious! Brother or sister? I've got a brother, but you already knew that.”

In his annoyance, Mikkel had no desire to exchange personal information. “I have enough of both kinds.”

“And you're the oldest?”

“I'd say so. Well, technically ...” Technically he was younger than his twin brother Michael by a good ten minutes. He wasn't entirely sure how he would have finished the sentence, being an honest man but at the same time not wanting to get into a discussion, but he was relieved of the need to finish it when they came around a corner and nearly ran into Sigrun.

In the moment before she reacted, Mikkel was impressed to note that she was carrying a stack of books balanced on her head. The sling was gone, the bandages unravelled, and Emil smeared with soot. It seemed something had burned again.

For a long moment, Sigrun simply stared at the three truants and they stared back, though Mikkel could hear a slight shuffling as the younger two tried subtly to hide behind his bulk.

“Mutiny,” Sigrun finally stated.

“No, no,” he said soothingly, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I assure you, I have no such intentions. Let me explain.”

And he explained. He went over the whole story twice, including emphasizing that he had ordered the two non-immunes to stay in the tank, with Tuuri's reluctant agreement the second time. “So you see,” he finished, “by investigating this lead myself, I simply saved you a day's worth of work.”

“What do you want, a pat on the back?” Sigrun growled, “Because I'm leaning towards straight up firing you right now.”

“I see,” he replied as dispassionately as he could manage. “Well, I believe you don't possess the authority to do that.” He was hired by the team back in Sweden and only they could fire him.

“Oh _shut up!_ ” she snarled, “I have the _authority_ to leave your ass behind in a ditch somewhere.” She was truly angry and he could see that all his efforts to form a good working relationship had gone for naught. And what did he have to show for it? Maybe a cure that demonstrably hadn't saved the few patients he knew had received it?

They stalked along in silence for a while, Tuuri and Reynir running ahead as soon as they saw the tank and Emil trailing along far behind. None of the others wanted to be anywhere near the quarrel.

“By the way,” Sigrun finally broke the silence in a calmer tone, “I need some fixing with my arm bandages.”

“Yes, I noticed.” Perhaps she was one whose anger was like a summer storm, quick to blow up and quick to blow over. He hoped so, at least.

Inside the tank, Tuuri was already at the radio chattering away in Finnish, of all things. A man answered in the same language, and Mikkel, rebandaging Sigrun's arm in a mutual stony silence, deduced that it must be her brother, Onni. He had believed Onni to be in Finland and had had the impression that there was some reason Onni could not join the expedition. Still, he was in Sweden now and that might be helpful. At least, it would give Lalli someone to talk to besides Tuuri, not that Lalli had demonstrated any desire to talk to anyone at all.

There were indistinct voices in the background and then the General stated clearly, “That's the cue for non-essential personnel to clear the area.” This was followed by another voice: “This is Torbjörn! Who am I speaking with?”

Tuuri stepped aside, offering the chair to Mikkel with a big smile after her talk with her brother. “Mikkel. Good evening.”

“Ah, hello, Mikkel! How are you all faring?”

“Very well, nobody is dead or dying,” and that was no thanks to Tuuri, he added silently. “And we do have an interesting find to report, and a suggestion for a location to visit. Do you have a map of Denmark as a whole at hand?”

“Why, yes we do! Trond, would you be a kind soul and fetch one of the atlases?”

“No rest for the old and weary ...” the General grumbled and Mikkel hid a smile. As he'd gotten older, the General had gotten more crotchety and less tolerant of foolishness.

Distractingly, there were other conversations going on around Mikkel. In Icelandic, Reynir was asking Tuuri whom she'd been talking to, and in Swedish, Emil was trying unsuccessfully to awaken Lalli and complaining that no one else seemed to be worried. Mikkel _was_ worried, but he had no idea what he should do about the situation. The scout had suffered no visible injury and Mikkel had no real medical skills beyond patching up injuries and preventing or treating infections.

“It's the site of an ancient hospital,” Torbjörn said, having been supplied with a map. “Quite a ways off your trail, but _potentially_ reachable. This is a nice find, Mikkel!”

“Thank you,” he answered smugly, while Sigrun in the background grumbled, “Wooow, somebody give this guy a medal already!”

“Just imagine,” Torbjörn went on, “how valuable would an ancient formula for a cure or vaccine _be?!_ ”

“Hrmh … I would like to underline that we have no solid information about what the vials contained.” No sense getting everyone's hopes up. And those patients were really, really dead. “ A working cure seems unlikely as of now. I'm judging purely from the abundance of human remains at the location, as I do believe the ideal for any treatment is to _not_ end up with many of those.”

“That's still all right!” Torbjörn said enthusiastically. “If it was distributed it must have been good for _something._ Even a half-finished vaccine would be an invaluable asset to the research program in our country.” Somewhat indistinctly he added, “Isn't that so, honey?” Mikkel recalled that Torbjörn's wife, Siv, was a medical researcher.

Her voice was faint but Mikkel could still make out what she replied. “Are you saying that _anything_ they find would be better than what we currently have, since the last half a century of research has been an utter waste of time and my job has been pointless?”

Even Mikkel wanted to say something reassuring to that. “N—no, I didn't mean it like – ” Torbjörn began, but “Because that would be correct,” she finished sadly.

“Well, there you have it, might be worth changing your itinerary just a tiny bit. I'm assuming you all aren't terribly opposed to the idea?” Mikkel looked around to see Tuuri barely suppressing the urge to jump up and down in joy while Sigrun stared sourly out of the tank. “We'll pay overtime, of course!” Torbjörn went on, “... Somehow.” The expedition was running on a shoestring, Mikkel knew, and he rather doubted _that_ promise. Still, they had permission to go straight for the cure, and that was enough.

At the other end of the radio conversation, Torbjörn was talking again to someone away from the microphone: “Taru, what's your take on checking out the place? Yes or no? … You mean, yes?”

That would be Taru Hollola, Finnish, the sponsor (and some kind of cousin) of Tuuri and Lalli. Her second answer was more audible to Mikkel. “No. No. Overextending in a situation with limited resources while in uncharted territory is simply moronic, and unnecessarily 'checking out' far-flung places might as well be the definition of overextending. Stick to the plan, pick up some books, be back home before spring, the end. My professional opinion.”

“I hate to be negative,” Siv's voice came faintly, “but I'll have to agree with Taru. “

In a tone of surrender, Torbjörn offered, “Maybe it's wisest to bring the information back and just let a better equipped expedition investigate it in the future. What's there now will still be there in a decade. Or two.” Tuuri stared at the radio with a betrayed expression, all her previous excitement drained out of her. “But I suppose it's your call, Sigrun,” he went on, “What do you think?”

“I think you're sounding a little wimpy there,” she answered, surprising Mikkel, who had thought she would nix the suggestion just because it had come from him. “We're already out here eating inedible sludge, might as well make it count for something. There's zero reason to back down from a challenge, even babies know that. I say we go!”

“I'm going to assume my advice was disregarded,” Taru put in dryly.

“That's what I hoped to hear!” Torbjörn rejoiced. “It's decided then! Tuuri, are you ready to take some notes for the drive?”

“All ready!” Her enthusiasm was back in full. With everything settled, Mikkel stood to go, commenting as he passed Sigrun, “I'll go warm up that inedible sludge for us.”

“Now hold on just a second,” she ordered firmly, blocking his path, “We still have a problem here unless you know what to say.”

Suppressing a sigh, he stated, “I'm sorry, and I swear not to do anything outside the range of assigned profession without permission from you.” In the army, or dealing with an employer, or really any situation that he could escape and that wasn't life and death, he would have twisted that promise so thoroughly that whoever demanded it would have heartily regretted doing so, but not here. Not now.

“Good. And _I_ admit that your dumb stunt ended up being not all dumb.”

“Thank you.”

“I'm keeping you on my mutinist risk list though.”

“You have a list?” He'd actually begun to doubt whether she could read and write.

Smiling smugly, she held out a slip of paper on which his name was printed in careful block letters. After examining it for a moment, he observed with a touch of humor, “Most people tend to include more than one item when they make lists.”

“Sounds to me like most people need to start making more focused and less stupid lists,” she answered, her smile widening. “Now chop chop, food!” It seemed he was forgiven.


End file.
